Better and Best
by amekazakai
Summary: You were better than the rest of the trainees. But until you met Natasha and Clint, you never fully understood what it meant to be the best. Clint x Reader.


**My first Avengers fanfic! :D**

**This is a Clint x Reader fanfic. This is set before the events of any of the Marvel Cinematic Universe's movies (except, you know, Captain America) and most likely ignores both Clint and Natasha's canon pasts as well as the way S.H.I.E.L.D works.**

Disclaimer: I don't own any part of Marvel.

**Please read and review! :)**

* * *

You were the top of your class for three years.

During sparring, you'd drive everybody else into the mat.

During marksmanship, you'd always shoot at least nine bullets out of ten into fatal areas.

In other words, for three years, you was the best trainee S.H.I.E.L.D had to offer.

It took you three years for you to build up a flawless reputation.

It only took half a year for it all to come crashing down.

* * *

The demolition crew was comprised of just two rookies.

The first one was a lanky red-haired girl with cold eyes and a wickedly sharp tongue.

The boys loved her because she accentuated her figure with a tight black uniform.

The girls loved her because she could flip the boys into the mat easily.

Not that you couldn't do the same, but it was always slightly difficult for you to find your center of balance and all that.

The absolute effortlessness and grace with which she flipped them was what set two of you apart.

Natasha Romanov was the first person to beat you, the top girl, in over three years

What made it even more humiliating was that she'd done it easily on her first attempt.

After the first time, you tried to stay away from Natasha, but Natasha always hunted you down, explaining that you was the only one who presented at least a bit of a challenge.

So, you had to bear with the pain and try to become as used to the pain of crashing into the mat as you possibly could.

* * *

Regardless of Natasha's skill, you were still the top of the class, as Natasha's marksmanship was horrible.

You could still be proud of your skill with a gun.

That confidence lasted for three months until the appearance of a thin boy with cropped hair and a frown on his face that never went away.

He had been brutally murdered during sparring, since you'd had been having a particularly bad day, and the others were already viewing him as a loser for his obvious lack of bulk, so when he rejected the offered gun and requested a bow and arrow, he received a lot of jeers.

The jeers lasted two minutes: one minute to retrieve the necessary equipment and one minute to leisurely inspect the bow and arrows, shoot the target ten times in the heart, and twirl the bow with a flourish.

It was dead silent except for his hum of satisfaction.

As Clint Barton walked to another target that was further away, you caught a glint of mischief flickering in his eyes that hadn't been there before.

* * *

Natasha surpassed you in the month after Clint's arrival.

It wasn't surprising, more inevitable than anything, but when Natasha successfully shot the target in vital areas ten times out of ten, there was still a twinge of jealousy.

Still, it wasn't like you could take your frustration out on her (the girl really scared you) so you proceeded to thrash Clint in sparring.

As you looked down at his groaning form, you felt a small surge of confidence.

No matter how amazing these rookies might be, _you_ were still at the top.

You were still the best.

You'd pass your last classes at the training facility with flying colors and become an agent.

Just like you'd always dreamed.

* * *

The problem was S.H.I.E.L.D only offered the top one or two agents of the graduating class a spot in the organization, and it would have been okay if everything had been normal.

If Natasha and Clint had been registered as first-years like the rest of the newcomers, you would still be feeling happy and secure.

But no, they were registered as fourth-years, which meant that they were graduating with you.

Their placement something you protested and complained about to the higher-ups, but when Agent Coulson patiently explained that it had been on Fury's orders, you became silent.

You could see why Fury wanted them in S.H.I.E.L.D as quickly as possible, but you didn't see why the situation had to be against _you_.

You, who'd joined S.H.I.E.L.D because your parents had been killed by one of S.H.I.E.L.D's many enemies.

You, who'd worked your butt off to get to where you were now.

You, who was so close to finally being in a position where you'd be able to make a stand against the very people you hated.

You, who refused to lose.

Natasha had already surpassed you, so you couldn't do anything about that, but you _could_ stay ahead of Clint.

No, it wasn't that you'd do it because you could.

You'd do it because you had to.

* * *

Even though you were fired up and ready to smash Clint into the ground, you didn't _hate_ him.

Not totally, anyway.

You were prepared to, but when he still smiled and laughed breathily from the mat after getting thrown down by you, you found that you couldn't hold a grudge against him for his abilities.

His smile prompted a small one of your own, his laugh coaxed a chuckle from you, his small moments of mischief had you anticipating what he had in store for the future.

In the beginning, you just brushed it aside, reasoning that it was probably because Clint was the only remotely attractive trainee that had appeared in a while.

All the other girls certainly seemed to be affected, so there was probably some instinctual reason why you liked Clint.

You definitely didn't like him personally.

That's what you believed anyway, until the day Clint approached you from behind in the shooting range and, putting his arms around you, adjusted your aim for you.

The surprise of his sudden approach and his departing smile were definitely part of the reason your heart suddenly started beating faster.

But if you said that the feel of his arms around you and his strong chest against your back weren't also reasons, you'd be lying.

And you definitely couldn't deny that the sound of his voice so close to your ear didn't send a slight tremor down your neck.

After he left, you remained frozen in the position he had left you in for a minute before slowly lowering your gun.

Your plan had been to completely crush him.

How were you supposed to do that when you now winced and worried about him every time his back hit the mat?

* * *

Laying on the mat, you looked up with a heavy sigh.

Natasha looked down at you, her face set in a frown.

"Get up."

"In a minute."

"...Why are you scared?"

You blinked, caught off guard.

You'd forgotten how animalistic some Natasha's instincts were.

"You're a scary person."

"..."

Her unimpressed eyes made it clear that she didn't buy it, but you didn't care.

Natasha's face disappeared from view, and you could tell that she had left the room by the way the room's atmosphere seemed to lighten slightly.

You groaned, your muscles protesting as you pulled yourself up into a sitting position.

But the problem was, you knew Natasha was right.

You were afraid...but of what?

Certainly of Natasha, but everybody had a healthy degree of both fear and respect for her, so she wasn't the reason.

And...yes, you had to admit that Clint scared you too.

What you didn't understand was exactly what about him scared you.

It certainly wasn't his aura; his aura had nothing on Natasha's.

You pursed your lips a bit and didn't notice the small, warm smile on Clint's face as he found you lost in thought.

He watched you for a few minutes before deciding that you'd probably been thinking for long enough.

"Hey."

You started in surprise as your gaze focused on him.

"Oh...hey."

"Are you up for a round? I saw Natasha coming out, so I get it if you don't want to..."

"No, I'm fine. Let's go."

* * *

Your chest heaved as you lay on the mat, trying to catch your breath.

"Hah! I finally won!"

You could practically hear the grin in Clint's voice.

You didn't respond, just closing your eyes so Clint wouldn't be able to see the despair.

As it was, he didn't seem to notice anything was wrong, since he kept on chattering to you happily.

With your despair came the horrible senses of finality and closure.

Clint had won the war he hadn't even been aware of.

He'd surpassed you in every way and now, there was no chance for you become an agent.

And now, you had to admit to yourself, there was no chance for you to fight alongside him.

That was what hurt the most.

* * *

You knew it'd happen eventually, but it still hurt the day you saw Clint off on his very first mission.

It hurt even more that he and Natasha, who was also going, technically weren't even full agents yet, which meant that the higher-ups had already decided on the who'd be getting the promotions that year.

And if you cared to look closer into your heart, yes, you were also scared that Clint wouldn't come back.

Natasha was going with him, and you trusted that she'd bring him back, but that didn't mean that she wouldn't be bringing him back in a body bag.

Clint flashed you a quick grin, clearly excited, as he slung his arrows over his shoulder and picked up the new bow S.H.I.E.L.D had had crafted just for him.

You gave him an uneasy smile, and he strode off, satisfied at your response.

Natasha was a bit more insightful, and as she walked past you, she flashed you a wry smile.

"We'll be back."

Then she was gone, leaving you alone in the hallway with your arm still raised in a farewell and the smile wavering as you tried not to cry.

* * *

The day Clint and Natasha were due back, you were in the gym at the crack of dawn, taking out your pent-up stress on an innocent punching bag.

You had no desire to wait for them in the car park; you told yourself that you had better things to do than that.

That, and...

And...Well, you didn't want to see Clint and Natasha together, acting like they'd known each other their entire lives.

You had enough stress already and didn't want to deal with the heartache the sight of the two of them together gave you.

Watching Clint and Natasha working and fighting together the weeks before their mission had helped you realize exactly what it was about Clint that frightened you.

Like you'd thought, you weren't afraid of the man himself.

No, it was what he could do to you; he held the ability to break your heart in his hands.

And the thing that scared you most was the thought of him deciding that you weren't special, that you weren't worth his time.

That there was someone better.

You scowled and punched the bag harder.

It was no use thinking about these kinds of things.

If he wanted to see you, he'd come to find you.

If he didn't...Well, then you'd have the answer to your fears.

* * *

"_There_ she is."

It was sometime past nine in the morning when someone's voice startled you out of your thoughts, and when you froze in surprise at the sight of Clint and Natasha standing (_'Together,' _your mind hissed) in the doorway, the still-swinging punching bag nearly hit you.

You only survived because Clint flung himself between you and the bag just in time to protect you.

You stared and Natasha snorted in amusement.

Clint rolled his shoulders back and rolled his neck. in an attempt to soothe the ache of his muscles. "Ow."

He grinned ruefully. "Well, that wasn't the first impression I wanted to give you when I came back."

"When'd you get back?"

"Just a few minutes ago. Nat and I were looking for you."

_'Nat.'_

You just nodded, focusing on keeping a poker face.

Clint pursed his lips. "You know, Natasha wanted to report to Fury as soon as we got back, but I asked her to help me look for you first."

You perked up at this. "...Really. Why?"

Clint's ears turned a little red. "Well... I don't know, I just wanted you to know that I was back. And...well, I wanted to see you. I mean, it's been a month..."

He gave you smile. "And I thought you might be in here, since you like taking things out on the punching bags when you feel bad, and I was right. So..."

He took a deep breath and grinned at you.

"I'm back."

You grabbed his shirt, jerked him down, and kissed him.

You couldn't fight alongside him; S.H.I.E.L.D would never let you go out into the field.

But you could wait for him.

And you'd always be there to welcome him back.

You wouldn't remain idle, of course; field agents were nothing without operating agents at headquarters to back them up.

But you'd always be there, waiting for him to say that he was back.

And you felt him grin and kiss him back, you figured that settling for that was okay.

You didn't mind.


End file.
